


Ghouls, Ghosts, and Graveyard Joggers

by leviosaphoenix



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Meet-Cute, Olicity Halloween Exchange 2016, Trick or Treating, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 04:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8432596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leviosaphoenix/pseuds/leviosaphoenix
Summary: Felicity takes her neighbor's daughter trick-or-treating (and it definitely results in a treat for herself).Written for the Olicity Fanfiction Trick or Treat Exchange.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween, Olicity fans! To celebrate the Spooky Season and the start of season five, thatmasquedgirl and I decided to organise something a little special with a few friends! Be sure to check out all the fics in the above collection - they're all based on 'trick' and/or 'treat' prompts, and they're wonderful. 
> 
> I combined my prompts (“You’re always hanging out in cemeteries… and yeah, it’s kinda creepy.” and "I accidentally scared a kid and their adult is angry.") and it resulted in this fluffy mess (emphasis on the mess). I think I'm sorry? As usual, thanks to Masque for all her suggestions and encouragement and holding me together when I'm loopy on cold medicine at 3am. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and have a safe and enjoyable Spooky Season!

Felicity Smoak would consider herself a pretty brave person.

Sure, there was that time in the haunted house walkthrough, when her friend _promised_ her there were no live actors (there were) and that time she thought she was being followed home from the grocery store by a hunchback who turned out to be her neighbor in a raincoat over a very bulky knapsack. Sally was very kind about the whole thing, even the part where Felicity threatened to call the police while waving a yam around like a weapon, but it doesn’t rate among her finest moments.

Anyway, Felicity would consider herself, perhaps, _above average_ brave. After many years, she’s finally started to allow herself to sleep with the closet door ajar (Monsters, Inc. is a terrifying movie, after all) and she lives next to a for-real, actually-contains-dead-people _cemetery_ , for crying out loud. The rent for the apartment is cheap, the view is great (on days when there aren’t burials taking place in her backyard), and she actually has some pretty great neighbors (Sally included, corpses less so).

So when Piper Bennett, the tiny terror affectionately known around the building as _Hyper Piper_ and only child of the yam-fearing Sally, tugs on her hand in front of the old Queen manor house, Felicity swallows back her anxiety and forces herself to follow the girl up the path. It’s October 31st, after all, and nothing can get between a seven-year-old and her Halloween candy, not even gnarled trees with creaking boughs, a porchlight flickering out at their approach, and cobwebs thick as blankets on the windows.

There’s only just light enough to see, so she decides it should be their last house for the night. She hadn’t thought offering to babysit and take Piper trick-or-treating would require so much _effort,_ but here she is, wearing a _Ghostbusters_ jumpsuit with her hair styled up on top of her head (“just like Hoth-man!” Piper had declared), and psyching herself up to knock on the door of the oldest, creepiest building in Starling City.

Piper, for her part, is dressed up as Thor, because even Felicity couldn’t convince her that he hadn’t actually _been_ in the movie, or rather, she realized after ten minutes of arguing that rational debate with a seven-year-old is like trying to paint a brick wall with a toothbrush.

There’s a scuttling noise beside them, and Felicity glances nervously around, suddenly wondering if a handful of probably-stale, off-brand suckers is worth the assault on her nerves. The mansion is _just_ far enough on the outskirts of the city to remain a mystery to most of the citizens, with no resident spotted coming or going at the property in recent years. Piper seems hell-bent on the most elaborate houses having the most candy, though, so it’s time for Felicity to bite the bullet (but she holds onto her fake proton pack a little tighter just in case).

Raising her little fist to the heavy wooden door, Piper raps four times and pastes on her most angelic smile. There’s a long, long pause, in which Felicity awkwardly scuffs the toe of her boot on the path and glances around once more, and as she’s finally about to give up and drag Piper home, the door creaks open.

“Trick or treat!” Piper sings, holding out her pink canvas tote, already heavy with refined sugar and artificial colors. The elderly man, dressed in a prim suit and bearing the dispassionate expression of most servants in a place like this one, lets out a long-suffering sigh and tips the contents of a small silver bowl into the bag.

“They said death was supposed to be relaxing, yet I find myself doing the same work,” he says to himself quietly.

Piper’s perfect smile slides from her face for a moment, and Felicity would not have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. The little girl reaches for her hand (in all fairness, Felicity may have reached out, too) and they stand in silence as the door swings shut again. The wind, which had dropped entirely without them noticing, picks up again, lifting Piper’s wild curls and sending the leaf litter around their feet spiralling into a dust devil.

Piper glances up with a shaky smile, jumping on the spot and shimmying her shoulders. “He had a cool costume.”

Not knowing if a butler’s uniform counts as Halloween garb, Felicity elects to agree with her. “Pretty eerie, right? I mean, that guy took the creep train to Creepy Island.”

Piper giggles, and they turn around together, coming face to face with a huge figure in a hockey mask right behind them.

With a bloodcurdling shriek, Piper leaps into Felicity’s arms (somehow maintaining a tight grip on her bag in the process). Felicity, naturally, lets out an undignified yelp, followed by a few choice words that she _probably_ shouldn’t say in front of little ears, and stumbles from the sudden impact, at least until her potential murderer reaches out to steady her. She flinches away, and he holds out both hands in surrender.

“Whoa, whoa! Sorry,” murmurs a male voice. “Costume. I’m supposed to be… well, never mind what I’m supposed to be. Let me just…” Slowly removing the mask, the threat reveals himself to be a very attractive, somewhat familiar guy with impossibly blue eyes, just the right amount of scruff on his jaw, and a thoroughly amused grin.

As the temperamental porchlight flickers on again, realization dawns on Felicity: this man (well, in particular, his very athletic physique and penchant for muscle tees) is somebody that she _recognizes_. She fights back the heat threatening to rise to her cheeks, scowling with disapproval.

“What kind of sick animal hangs around silently in gardens to scare little kids? It might be Halloween, mister, but you’ve taken the _trick_ part of trick-or-treat too damn far. Creeping up on people with no warning… she’s just a kid! You’ve really scared her!”

Looking suitably abashed, he opens his mouth, but Felicity isn’t quite done.

“Obviously, you have no experience with kids _whatsoever_ , or you would know that they don’t really appreciate being tormented by strangers in masks after sundown. I mean, honestly, there is a _line_ , and you’ve crossed it.” She gently sets Piper down, but the girl continues to cling to her, wrapping her fingers in the fabric of Felicity’s costume and hiding most of her face.

“Hey, I said I was sorry!” he protests (now that he can finally get a word in edgewise). There’s still a hint of laughter on his face, and Felicity’s glare darkens. “I was just ducking out to grab some more candy, look.” He holds out a large plastic bag, and Piper slowly peers in, her attention caught and all her fear melting away. “I thought you would have heard the gate; I’m sorry for scaring you.”

He tosses a couple of packets into Piper’s bag, winking at her and tapping her once on the nose when she smiles.

“See? All is forgiven. Right, kiddo?”

“Right,” Piper chirps, and just at the moment where Felicity thinks she’s free and clear to escape, the girl tugs on her sleeve and announces in a stage whisper, “He’s Hot Cemetery Guy!”

Felicity’s face immediately goes blank, her heart leaping into her throat. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” she stammers, forcing a smile.

“You know!” Piper bulldozes on ahead. “You call him Hot Cemetery Guy! He always goes past around five o’clock, remember?”

Despite his obvious effort to suppress it, their new friend splutters out a laugh. Felicity’s face is aflame, and she can’t even bring herself to make eye contact with him.

“You’re thinking of something your mom said, I think,” she says, grabbing Piper’s hand and starting to drag her down the footpath.

“No, it’s you, Felicity!” the little girl protests with a frown, trying to pull away. “You always watch from the window.”

He laughs again, and she wishes the ground would open up beneath her.

“You’re _killing_ me,” she grumbles under her breath as Piper blinks up at her in confusion.

“Hold on, wait a second,” he says from behind them. “Felicity, is it?”

Squeezing her eyes shut and willing the burn in her cheeks to subside, she slowly turns to face him, fixing her gaze on his chin as she speaks.

“In my defense, you do hang out at the cemetery a lot, okay? It’s kinda creepy. What is up with that? Every day you just go right past and then back again half an hour later. What do you _do_ while you’re there, huh?” Without her consent, her hand lifts and pushes him once in the chest, and she stares down at it in surprise, quickly tucking it behind her back (forcing herself not to think about the muscle she felt beneath that one touch).

“Well, my parents are buried there,” he says, solemnly, and Felicity almost chokes on her own words.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry; I had no idea. I didn’t- I mean, that’s a perfectly good reason… I’m sorry for prying; oh, God, I’m such an _idiot_ …”

He starts laughing again, and she stares at him in confusion, meeting his eyes for the first time.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I mean, yeah, I go visit sometimes, but mostly I just like the trails through the forest behind there, and the cemetery is the quickest way through.”

Licking her lips uncomfortably, Felicity tries to give him a self-deprecating smile (which comes out more like a grimace). “Oh, that makes sense. I’m sorry for, uh, objectifying you. It’s just, there aren’t many passers-by in our street, so I- we really couldn’t _not_ notice.”

“That’s okay. I like the name, actually,” he smirks, “but I haven’t introduced myself! I’m Oliver, and you’re Felicity, so _you_ must be…”

“I’m Piper! Do you want some?” She grins with blue-stained teeth, holding out a handful of rope-like confectionery dyed in bright colors.

“Sure,” he says, taking a pink one and somehow maintaining a straight face as he chews on it. “So, Piper, I know I scared you a little before, so can I do something to make it up to you?”

She tilts her head at him, the silver helmet from her costume slipping on her dark curls.

“Do you still have a few more houses to go tonight?” At her answering nod, the corner of his mouth quirks up slightly. “How about I come with you, to protect both of you from any monsters or ghouls or scary guys in masks? After all,” he adds with a wink, “I go to the cemetery all the time, so I’m pretty good at fending them off.”

“Oh,” Felicity protests, weakly, “it’s actually getting late, and I was thinking about heading home…”

Both of them fix her with beseeching gazes, and Piper’s bottom lip even _quivers_. “Please?” she begs. “There’s still one whole _street_ that we haven’t done yet.”

“Maple Lane?” Oliver guesses. “I think one of the houses in that street has the coolest decorations in the whole city.”

Piper starts bouncing on her toes, and Felicity rolls her eyes in defeat. “I suppose so.”

Slipping his mask back on, Oliver growls at the little girl, miming claws with his hands.

“You’re not scary,” Piper giggles before menacingly waving the large styrofoam hammer (that Felicity had carefully crafted for her) and chasing him down the driveway.

Each house in Maple Lane has a few spooky skeletons and jack-o'-lanterns out the front, but nothing can quite compare to the one with a gargantuan spider on the roof, moving lights that look like ghosts wandering through the gravestones littering the yard, and a pumpkin carved with the number 13 on the front porch. Piper takes everything in with wide eyes before approaching the door and pressing the bell.

A little boy opens the door, wearing military fatigues and a shy smile.

“Your house is so awesome,” Piper gushes.

“Thanks. Uncle Digg helps me decorate it every year.”

The man in the doorway behind the boy gives Oliver a wave, and Felicity glances at him, blushing when he catches her eye.

“Coworker,” he mouths to her.

“Do you see this?” the boy asks Piper, sticking out his chest and pointing to a medal pinned to his uniform. “This is a _real_ medal, from the war. It was my dad’s.”

Piper admires the medal for a moment, then the two launch into a discussion about _very_ serious business (which, of course, is candy).

Felicity shivers a little as the cool wind bites through the material of her jumpsuit. Oliver glances down at her and immediately shrugs out of his own coat, despite her protests.

“Piper and AJ really seem to have hit it off,” he remarks, as she slips her arms through the sleeves (and tries to ignore how delicious his jacket smells). “Maybe they could be friends.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Felicity echoes. “Okay, Pipes, it’s getting late.”

The two say goodbye reluctantly, although they both are appeased when Felicity promises to bring Piper around later in the week.

As they walk back to the apartment building, Piper skips ahead, swinging her bag of candy. The pavement is a little uneven in parts, and Felicity almost trips, saved at the last moment by Oliver grabbing her arm to steady her for the second time that evening.

“Sorry, I’m such a klutz,” Felicity says, laughing a little.

“If you fall, the zombies chasing us will catch you first,” he deadpans, and she laughs again.

Instead of letting go of her, though, he slides his grip down to her hand, threading his fingers through hers (and she really, really likes the way it feels).

“I have to thank you,” he says, and she tilts her head at him in curiosity.

“For what?”

“For the nickname. It’s done wonders for my self-confidence,” he grins, and, yet again, Felicity’s cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Please can we just forget that ever happened?” she groans.

“Never. Actually,” he says, lowering his voice, “I was hoping we could talk about it over dinner.”

Felicity stops, staring at him in confusion. “Tonight? I’m- I still- Piper,” she manages, by way of explanation.

“Any night. Multiple nights,” Oliver replies, tentatively.

“Oh. Well, in that case, uh…”

“We’re here!” a bright voice interrupts.

Felicity glances up in surprise, as if the building had just materialized out of thin air. She uses the few moments of searching for her keys to ground herself, unlocking the door and glancing back at Oliver.

“Dinner would be nice,” she finally answers, “as long as it’s not at your house. Your butler is creepy.”

Oliver frowns. “What butler?”

“Bye, Oliver!” Piper calls, darting inside.

Throwing him an apologetic look, Felicity murmurs a quick goodbye and follows, making it all the way into the elevator before she realizes she forgot to give him her number. She scribbles it quickly on the first thing she sees inside (a newspaper, open to the horoscopes page) and races back downstairs after making Piper swear black and blue not to open the door while she’s gone.

He’s maybe forty feet away with his back to her when she rushes out, clattering down the steps and chasing after him.

“Oliver!” she calls, breathlessly, and he stops and turns around.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asks with concern.

“Nothing. I just… forgot…” she waves the newspaper at him and he takes it, his expression relaxing when he recognizes what it is.

“Who needs numbers when you know where I run?” he grins.

Almost without her own permission, her body lurches forward and her lips meet his, just for a second, before pulling back.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Felicity gasps, “I didn’t-”

He cuts her off, this time with a lingering kiss that sends electric currents through her body from her mouth to where his hands are resting on her waist. It’s over after a few moments, but the dark oceans swirling in his eyes make it evident that he’d like to repeat the experience. It's intoxicating, and she has to swallow a few times before she's able to speak again.

“Thanks for coming with us tonight,” she murmurs.

He smiles, squeezing her hand once. “Happy Halloween, Felicity.”

“Happy Halloween,” she echoes, reluctantly turning to head back inside.

(She’d be lying if she said she didn’t light up when her phone buzzed a minute later with a cute cartoon picture of a ghost from an unknown number.)

Piper is curled up contentedly on the couch, hammer and crown lying forgotten on the floor, the sugar coma already setting in. “Felicity, can we go trick-or-treating with Oliver every year?” she asks.

Collapsing next to her, Felicity shifts the girl to her lap, gently running her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know, kiddo. Maybe, if he wants to.”

“I hope he will,” Piper sighs as she drifts off to sleep.

(Felicity would also be lying if she said she wasn’t hoping for the same thing.)


End file.
